Until the End (11 page)

“I have to go.”

“Lauren, wait.”

“I…I’ll call you, Mish.”

She hurried out before he could say anything more. He was tempted to break something else, mainly Jonathan’s face, but there was no point.

At least she said she would call. That was all he could hope for, and if she didn’t, he would reach out to her.

As she climbed into bed that night, Lauren didn’t have the energy to feel guilty for how she felt about Mishca. In fact, she was tired of fighting herself about it.

“You are terrible with women,” Vlad commented as he stepped into Mishca’s office, eyeing his boss angrily moving folders around his desk.

Lauren had been gone for a few hours and Mishca was burying himself in his work, needing the distraction.

“Yea?” Mishca asked sarcastically, throwing down the stack of financial records he was thumbing through. “I’ve never seen you with a woman.”

“Because I know very little about them, but I do know accusations will not help. You have only dug yourself into a deeper hole.”

“Then what do I do?” He would accept all the help he could get.

“Show remorse.”

Two weeks of zero contact, zero contact that was going to end today. Mishca had given her space, but now he was done with waiting. If she couldn’t come to him, he would go to her, and this time, there wouldn’t be any walking away.

But first, he had a promise to keep.

After getting the address from his father, Mishca showered and dressed, Alex already waiting for him in his living room. She hadn’t gone back to France, choosing to stay in New York in his apartment. Besides having her clothes all over his apartment, he didn’t mind her presence. Most nights he was out until the wee hours of the morning anyway. They rarely saw each other.

When he came out of his bedroom, he couldn’t help but think she looked like a little girl. She was trying her best to appear calm, but she was constantly checking her watch, sighing in aspiration as he took his time.

Mishca was afraid of what would happen when he took her to see Anya. He never wanted to tarnish her mother’s image in her eyes, but he knew how Anya would react to her.

He knew women like her.

“Ready?”

“What the hell took you so long anyway?” Alex murmured as she followed him out the apartment, down to his car.

They didn’t talk about that night at the club, but he did notice that she refrained from drinking as much around him and she hadn’t come back to his club since then.

Mishca had given Vlad the day off, not knowing what to expect after Alex’s visit. If it went badly, he knew Alex wouldn’t want an audience seeing her cry, even if they were as close as Vlad was.

He turned the radio down, briefly glancing over at his sister before facing the road again. “Aleksandria, I just want you to know that whatever happens, you still have me.”

Huffing out a breath, she rolled her eyes. “You’re like the only person that calls me that, you know. Makes you sound old. Besides, mum only hates you and that—Lauren.”

“I’ve told you before, Lauren has nothing to do with this.”

“
Andddd
Imagine Dragons is playing.”

She turned up the music, almost to an uncomfortable volume, singing even louder.

Mishca understood that her anger towards Lauren was frustration for the whole situation, and he couldn’t fault her for it. She was only seventeen and didn’t understand the delicate nature of the
Bratva
. While she had too grown up in the lifestyle, she was still sheltered from the extremities of it.

It was one thing Mishca and Mikhail had agreed upon.

They rode in silence, each lost in their own thoughts as they drew closer to the person Alex loved unconditionally, and the woman Mishca had always despised.

He was always careful with hiding his feelings from Alex. It wasn’t her fault that his mother had been forgotten long ago, just a distant memory for him alone. He actually cherished that, something pure that he could look back on when he needed it.

He also had Lauren…if she accepted him.

Now more than ever, he thought of his mother and the reasons behind why she had stayed with Mikhail all those years though she secretly abhorred everything there was about the
Bratva
. He wished he would have been older when he lost her, so he could understand how to be better than his father.

Arriving at their destination, Mishca parked the car, pulling out his phone to answer business inquiries while he waited.

“How long do I have?” Alex asked holding the door handle.

“Take as long as you want.”

She smiled, a real one that he hadn’t seen in a long time. Leaning over, she kissed his cheek. “Thanks, Mish.”

Alex took one last look back at the car before heading across the parking lot to the apartment building, making her way up to Anya’s apartment. As she got off on the right floor, she was surprised to see that it was fairly vacant, none of Mikhail’s soldiers guarding the apartment door. But for all she knew, Mishca could have called them away before they got here.

This was the moment she had been waiting for since the day they had taken her away. No one would tell her anything about Anya, not that she had many people to ask.

In her hand, she carried a basket of Anya’s favorites: a bottle of vintage wine, decadent cheeses, as well as various perfumes.

Raising a hand, she knocked tentatively, hearing the soft clicking of heels. Alex’s smile grew as she nervously smoothed her hair, happiness blossoming in her chest as she anticipated seeing her mother.

Anya answered the door in a flurry of motion, the skirt of her dress billowing out. At first she looked hopeful, but spotting Alex at the door, her face quickly morphed to annoyance.

“What do you want?”

Alex was momentarily taken aback at how angry she sounded. She’d thought her mother would have been happy to see her, but if anything, she sounded like Alex was the last person she was hoping to see.

“I came to visit,” Alex called after her as Anya disappeared down the corridor without actually inviting Alex in.

Since she had left the door open, Alex assumed that was invitation enough.

The apartment was large, though lacked any of the elegance that could be found at the manor. White walls, minuscule furniture, and a kitchen that looked like it was last renovated in the early thirties. Wincing, Alex felt guilty that the only thing she had thought to bring was a small gift basket when she clearly needed more. Maybe she could appeal to Mishca to bring her back on another date, then she would bring everything Anya could possibly want.

“So why are you really here?” Anya asked lighting a cigarette.

Alex hadn’t know she even smoked. “I told you. I wanted to see how you were doing. Mishca—”

“
Bah!
Don’t speak his name in my presence. It’s all his fault I’m in this wretched hellhole anyway, him and that American bitch.”

Alex frowned at the vehemence she heard in Anya’s tone, not for Lauren—she could care less about her—but the way she talked about Mishca. It wasn’t his fault at all.

Deciding to change the subject, Alex presented her with the basket. “I didn’t know what to bring you, so I brought a little of everything. If there’s anything you want, I can get it for you.”

Sighing, Anya accepted, looking at it disdainfully as she dropped it on the island, uncaring of the glass bottles inside.

“I suppose I’m meant to thank you, no?”

Alex was too flabbergasted to even agree. She was just now realizing that some of Anya’s disgust was aimed at her as well, but she wasn’t ready to give up yet.

“How are you doing?”

“How do you
think
, stupid girl? Can you not see this deplorable apartment that I am being forced to live in. God, even dogs live better than this.”

“Is there—”

“Stop sniveling!”

Alex’s throat was tightening as tears threatened to fall. Never in her life had Anya treated her so coldly. At least not that she could remember, but Alex had weak spot where Anya was concerned.

“If you really want to do something for me, you’ll get rid of that girl.”

“Get rid—you want me to
kill
her.” She might have hated her, but she didn’t wish Lauren dead.

“It’s the least you could do after what you’ve done.”

“I-I can’t do that.” She didn’t think she had it in her to kill another person. “That would hurt Mishca. He’s my bro—”

Rearing her hand back, Anya landed an open-palmed slap to Alex’s face.

“What about me? Where is your
loyalty
? He’s not your brother. He should mean nothing to you.”

No tears would form despite the radiating pain in her face, nor could she think of anything to say. She could do no more than stand there, holding her palm to her cheek, staring at her mother.

“I should have gotten rid of you,” Anya spat angrily, ignoring the look on hurt on Alex’s face. “You’ve ruined me!”

Spinning on her heel, Alex walked out of her mother’s apartment, Anya’s insults carrying out with her. With the door slammed shut, and Alex alone once again, she crouched down, glad for the dim light so that anyone walking by wouldn’t notice her.

It was in this cold and dirty place that she allowed herself to cry for everything she had lost.

When she could cry no more, Alex wiped the tears away, grabbing the compact from her purse to hide any traces of her weakness.

She walked slowly back out to the car, remarking on how short and bitter the meeting with her mother had been. She also needed that time to get herself together, knowing that if she didn’t, Mishca would notice she’d been crying, and she didn’t want to think about what he would do if he saw it.

Back in the car, she buckled her seatbelt without a word, pasting a cheery smile on her face when she felt Mishca staring at her profile.

“How did it go?”

She looked over at him, noticing for the first time the differences in their appearances. She had never felt more distanced from him in her life.

He was the one that had taken her to the park when her mother was busy, bandaged her scrapes and cuts, offering words of wisdom on every little thing she asked of him.

“Fine.”

She didn’t care that he was not her brother.

In her heart, he always would be.